


framed in flora

by akumatised (emeraldine)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Light Angst, Secret Identity, i have no idea how to tag this, like tons of it, that tag makes me laugh lmao, two beans fall in love essentially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:10:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldine/pseuds/akumatised
Summary: When Marinette Dupain-Cheng quite literally stumbles into Adrien Agreste's life, neither can explain the pull they feel towards each other. They've never met (aside from one rocky introduction on Adrien's first and last ever day of public school), and yet there's this familiarity about their budding friendship that they can't explain, but can't ignore.It must just be coincidence that her eyes look like his old partner's, or that she finds herself flustered around him in a way nobody has ever managed to make her other than a certain green-eyed cat she once knew. But that's not solid enough evidence, is it? They could never be so lucky as to be separated, only to find each other again in another life. Right?





	1. an encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [inking indigo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304887) by [matchaball](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchaball/pseuds/matchaball). 



It’s almost closing time when she bursts in, torrential as the rain behind her and bringing a gust of wind and panic. Although her entry is swift and shocking, there’s nothing but gentleness in the way she softly closes the shop door behind her, as if she’s suddenly realised the warmth of the shop and the biting cold of the evening are intermingling in a way they shouldn’t.

She’s drenched as she turns to apologise, but before the gentleman in him thinks to offer her any kind of warmth, the artist in him imagines her inky black hair in watercolour, deep strands morphing into droplets of cool blue-grey that stain her collarbones as they race down like raindrops on car windows. Her eyes are a brilliant cerulean and ignite a nostalgia he recognises but can’t firmly place, until the vague chime of an old best friend in the back of his mind reminds him his lady had hair and eyes just like those. He pushes that thought away, of course. There’s no way he could be so lucky.

“-And so I basically tried every shop door I passed, and yours was the only one open- which probably means you’re closing too I’m so sorry!” 

It only occurs to him as he catches the end of her explanation that there was even one occurring, and that he probably missed important details. Oops.

“No, it’s okay, it’s totally fine! I’ll grab you some towels, and- do you want something to drink? I’ve got coffee, tea, hot chocolate…”

He knows what she’ll pick before she picks it, as her eyes light up when he reaches that point on the list. “Tea, please.” That ignites a faint memory too, but in his haste to see to the beautiful girl that’s just stumbled into his life and needs his help he simply moves that thought aside, choosing to focus instead on the steam rising from the kettle, finding the fluffiest towels in the shop and the thickest jacket on his coat stand.

“How do you like it? Milk, no milk? Any sugar?”

“Strong, please, with a little milk. And no sugar.”

He adds an extra spoonful of leaves to the pot, deciding he’ll dine with her, and grabs two mugs, putting a teaspoon of sugar in one and leaving the other empty. It’s probably silly of him to note with happiness that they take their tea almost exactly the same way, but he loves his tea almost as much as another old friend of his loved Camembert, and he gets a sense that she may hold the same affection for it. The procedure soothes him, as it’s always been able to do; leaves staining and tinting the water remind him, as always, of a brush covered in paint being dipped into clean, clear water, seeping through and permeating it with life and flavour. He carries the now finished cups of tea over to the small round table in the staff kitchen, and comes back out to the front to beckon her back. When she hesitates, he flashes her a warm, inviting smile that he hopes will play a part in thawing her chilled bones. She treads lightly through the small space, thanking him when he takes her coat and replaces it with his soft charcoal one, and drapes hers over a chair directly below the heater. He sits opposite her, pulling his cup of tea closer and wrapping his fingers around it.  She coaxes vague memories out of him as they sit in silence, of his first and last day of school, and gum on a chair, and- of course! That’s why she seems familiar to him!

“So,” he begins, not entirely sure of where he’s going to steer the conversation. There’s another short lull as he debates over how exactly to start.

“So,” she repeats. He smiles, and the right side of her mouth quirks up slightly in response.

He decides to start simple. “I never got your name.”

“Oh! Right, sorry. I’m Marinette.” He smiles. It suits her, he decides, despite barely knowing her. It’s beautiful, so it’s only fitting that it would belong to someone equally so.

“That’s gorgeous! I’m Adrien.” 

She laughs. “I know.”

“Right. Of course. So what brings you to this little corner of Paris? I’ll be honest, I didn’t catch your entire explanation earlier..”

“Well, ah..” She looks down, face reddening as she chuckles to herself. “It's the dumbest thing ever! I was in the area on a lunch date with this guy from my school who'd liked me back in the day but I never gave him a chance in lycée and so I thought I'd finally give it a try- anyway, that's not the point. I was around for that, and I don't know this area very well, so I should've thought about the fact that going for a wander would probably end badly, but I didn't, because I'm a genius! So I stayed out, explored, and then at some point remembered I didn't have my car, so here I was trying to figure out how to get home from here, and then before I knew it it was late and raining and I had to find temporary shelter, so I tried every shop door till one opened.”

He smiles. “Well, you came to the right place. If you don't mind, I can give you a ride home when your jacket’s a little dryer?” 

She looks over at her jacket draped over his chair, a makeshift drying solution that makes her smile just a little. “That’d be great actually, thank you. I’m over by Avenue Rapp.”

“No problem. But you totally forgot the most important detail of that whole story! I'm left in suspense here!” He laughs. 

Her brow furrows slightly in confusion. “Oh. What?”

“How was the date? Good? Bad? Awful?”

She blushes again, shaking her head. “Easily one of the most awkward dates I've ever been on. I mean, not that I've been on many, but my gosh, it was awkward!”

“If it makes you feel any better, I'm a bit inexperienced at the whole dating thing too,” he laughs.

“Really? I’d have thought, being famous and well liked would've helped you in that department?”

“You'd think so, but not really. If I were a confident, charming guy, maybe, but the reality's a little less glamorous than that. Sheltered kid who hardly got to interact with anyone his age and only ever had eyes for one girl never really appealed to most.” He chuckles ruefully. “Not that I cared too much whether anyone other than her was interested in me. She was the only one I wanted.”

Marinette nods, humming in agreement. “I know what you mean.”

He wants to ask, but her expression changes as she looks out through the kitchen’s small doorway at the shop front beyond, and he doesn’t have the heart to deter her subject change. 

“So,” she begins, an eyebrow quirked, “how exactly does a super rich and famous ex-model wind up owning a tattoo parlour?”

He chuckles at the familiar question, setting down his cup and leaning back in his chair. 

“Well, when I was younger, my whole life was dictated for me. What I studied, where I studied it- although I did get one day in a normal school..” He pauses, watching the recognition flash in her eyes. “I think I kind of made a mess of it though; made an enemy of a cute girl when she caught me at her chair and thought I was planting gum on it.” He finishes with a wink and she gasps.

“You remember that?!”

He laughs. “Of course I do! I felt so awful!”

“Well don’t worry, Nino ratted Chloe out immediately, so, no hard feelings. But why didn’t you come back?”

“Well, good old Father dearest found out I’d been a delinquent and snuck out, and forbade me from ever doing so again. He even started sticking around at home a little more to make sure it didn’t happen again, although he never said that was the reason. But I let him dictate me, because I was only a kid, and I didn’t have a clue as to how to stand up to him. So I became a piano-playing, Chinese-speaking, prim, polite little prodigy that did everything his father asked of him, never talked back and never showed emotion. And yeah, it was as bad as it sounds. But I had my methods of escape, one of which was drawing. I loved it, and he could never protest because it was a harmless talent, and one he’d given me. As I grew closer and closer to adulthood I’d make jokes about owning my own tattoo parlour, just to see how much it would terrify my father. I didn’t really think I was serious about it, but then my 18th birthday rolled around and all I wanted to do with my newfound freedom was get a tattoo. So I did.” He laughed. “Dad’s face when he found out my horrible act of rebellion was nothing more than a flower was priceless! I don’t think he knew what to do with himself.”

Turning, he pulls his collar down to expose the small orchid just between his neck and shoulder blades, and hears her hum of approval. She seems impressed, but still, he wants to explain. “Orchids symbolise-”

“-Delicate beauty.” He turns, surprised, to see her smiling, cheeks slightly pink. “I’m a florist,” she explains. His smile grows.

“Remind me to come visit your shop! I love flowers.”

“Will do. So, who inspired that? Unless you like to think of yourself as a delicate, beautiful flower, in which case-”

He stops her with a laugh. “My mother. She.. died, I assume, but disappeared to say the least, when I was 13. To me she was always the epitome of beauty and elegance, and when impulse took me into that parlour and I was asked what I wanted, I just had to pay homage to her.” 

She seems at a loss for what to say. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she finally says; quietly, hesitantly. He smiles.

“Thank you. It’s okay though, usually. Having a present memory of her on me makes it a little easier, I think.”

“It’s beautiful”, she remarks softly, eyes trailing over the lines and shapes he has memorised. 

“It is, isn’t it? It's so different, so much more detailed than all my others and the style I usually go for, and yet, it's my favourite.”

“So, were you totally hooked after that or something? You’re not totally inked up, like you’d expect a tattoo artist to be.”

He shrugs, looking over his arms. It surprises people a fair bit; he tattoos people for a living, yet, on himself they’re somewhat scarce. A moon here, a lightning bolt there, a pair of hands reaching out to each other on his arm (a la Michelangelo); a wave somewhere else. “I guess my tastes, as far as what I put on myself, are more minimal. But yeah, I was pretty hooked, to be honest. After getting one, being somebody who did that for other people was all I could think about. And then, when my father was outed as..  _ Him _ , and thrown in jail, I no longer had someone dictating and shaping my whole life for me. So, I did it. That was three years ago, when I was 19.”

Once again, she seems conflicted on what to say in the wake of his sob story.

“Sorry to lay all that on you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to make you feel sorry for me or anything, it’s just..” He can feel his cheeks warming as he thinks of the woman she reminds him of. “Well, you’re easy to talk to.” 

She smiles. “I’m glad.”

“So how did you get into floristry?” 

Her smile widens, growing fond, and she positively  _ glows _ . His brain practically short-circuits.  _ Oh, wow.  _

“Well,” she begins, “I thought that fashion was exactly where I wanted to be for a long time. I loved, or at least believed I’d love, every part of it. But another thing I loved, although I never really gave the hobby a whole lot of thought, was horticulture. I’d visit my grandparents’ house all the time as a kid and my grandmother would show me all the progress her garden had made since my last visit, and tell me all about what all the flowers meant. And I loved it! I don’t know exactly when birthday presents stopped being clothes I made and became flower arrangements Grandmother and I had carefully crafted, but I reached a point where my balcony had its own little garden and everything, and I was working in her shop as well, so when she passed away, it just made sense to everybody for me to inherit it. I was 19 at the time as well, and didn’t have an exact career goal in mind, having already realised I didn’t want to be part of the constant race of the fashion industry, so I’d chosen to hold off on studying for a year, which worked out well for Grandmother, because she couldn’t be in the store all the time anyway. So I was there full time, unofficially running the place, and eventually was asked to officially run it. And now, here we are.” She shrugs. He smiles.

“That’s a really nice story. I mean, aside from your Grandmother passing away. It sounds like the two of you were close.”

“We were. A couple of times I’ve actually contemplated getting a tattoo of an azalea- they’re the Chinese symbol of womanhood, and one of her favourite flowers- in her honour, but never thought I’d actually do it. I’m a bit of a wuss when it comes to that stuff, and I’m so bad at sticking to my decisions. But who knows? Maybe we’ll see more of each other and you’ll inspire me to get something done.”

He grins. “I’d love that.”

As the night wears on, they continue talking, learning things about each other they never had the chance to at Francois Dupont.

At some point, Marinette's phone rings, and the pair notice for the first time how dark it's gotten. How have two and a half hours passed since her arrival?

“Sorry, that's my roommate Alya, she's probably wondering where I am. Hi, Alya! No, I'm okay, I'm totally fine, I've just been.. out. Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it when I get home. Hmm?” The muffled voice on the other end says something about dinner, and Marinette grins. “Pizza?” A pause. “Even better. I'll see you soon!” She hangs up, turning to Adrien with an apologetic smile.

“I should get going. Alya waited for me to order food and now she's bordering on hangry! And I could definitely use something to eat too. Is it alright if we head off?”

“Of course!” He rises to check on her jacket and finds it to be almost dry. Still, it wouldn't hurt for her to keep his warm one on. They leave the shop and make the short drive to her house in a comfortable kind of quiet, exchanging glances every so often. When they reach her narrow, two-story apartment, the first thing he notices, illuminated by a convenient street lamp, is the balcony to the right, complete with garden. 

“Let me guess. Yours?”

She smiles. 

“How very observant of you. Thanks so much for all your help tonight, and for the tea. It was really nice. I'll.. see you around?”

“Hey, no problem. See you later.” She opens the door and gets out, about to close it when he remembers.

“Hey wait! What's your shop called?”

She smirks. “It’s on Rue Augereau. You can figure out the rest.”

He watches as she leaves, his smile bordering on awestruck. If Plagg could see him now… Well, he’d probably tell him he was pathetic. But he doesn’t have the heart to care how stupid he looks as she turns back to wave at the door.

_ Wow. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adrien's first tattoo.](https://www.instagram.com/p/4tY5WTm6w1/)  
>  Others mentioned: [lighting bolt](http://www.popsugar.com.au/beauty/photo-gallery/39926060/image/39926040/Harry-Potter-Matching-Tattoos) / [pair of hands](https://www.instagram.com/p/BAYMdC3IsPl/) / [wave](https://www.instagram.com/p/BIuWNFggPRz/?taken-by=marjorianne) / [moon](http://littletattoos.co/post/134932900460/watercolor-style-blue-moon-on-the-collarbone)
> 
> Quick disclaimer: you’ll wonder at some point later why timelines don’t match up- this story is written as if Season 1 has occurred over a much longer time span, more like three or four years, as opposed to one. So episodes like Volpina and Princess Fragrance don’t happen until they’re all 18-19, and in their final year of school. Also, obviously, things are altered to fit the fact that Adrien doesn’t know any of Marinette’s class other than Chloe, so although some will be mentioned, you can pretty much roll with the assumption that any akuma attacks that directly involve Adrien have simply stemmed off a different motive than what’s happened in canon. Also, pretty much none of this story is compliant with the spoilers we’ve had of what Season 2 will bring (other than.. one thing…..) so I’m operating as though the events of Season 1 have happened shortly before the fall of Hawkmoth. Make sense?
> 
> Hope you’re intrigued by the story so far, I have big plans for it!


	2. de la vallee // of the valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain handsome tattoo artist visits a certain flower shop, and we meet a new character..

“MARINETTE! GET THE HELL UP, DUDE! YOUR ALARM’S DRIVING ME CRAZY!”

_ Huh. So that’s what the beeping in my dream was. _

Marinette forces her eyes open and immediately regrets it, greeted by rays of sunlight she would normally adore, filtering through the large plants on her balcony to fall in blurred, dappled spots on her walls and sheets. This morning, however, she doesn’t have the heart to find poetry in the sun that blinds her.

Stumbling out of bed (but managing  _ not  _ to send her blanket tumbling to the floor with her today), she runs a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face as she reaches for her phone with her other hand. Bleary-eyed, she turns it on to check the time and reality smacks her in the face.

“THAT’S MY LATE ALARM AAAHH ALYA I’M GONNA BE LATE!” She barrels through her bedroom door and out to the kitchen, where Alya sits, calmly sipping from her coffee cup.

“My child, how easily you forget”, she responds peacefully, shaking her head. “You called Brigitte last night and swapped your shifts around, remember? You don’t start till 10!”

Marinette heaves a sigh of relief. “That is the best news I’ve heard in my entire life.”

Alya raises a brow. “Better than finding out that  _ the  _ Adrien Agreste is now a humble tattoo artist and total gentleman, is still gorgeous  _ and  _ is probably totally smitten with you?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Ugh, you’re on that again? I told you last night; there’s no way that’s happening. We just met, he probably has a gorgeous and successful girlfriend I don’t know about, and I have  _ literally  _ no experience with guys because I never dated in lycée and therefore have no clue how guys work! What else do I have to say to convince you that Adrien and I will only ever be friends?”

With a scoff, Alya shakes her head. “Babe, I literally have rebuttals for every single point you just gave me. He spent the entire night with you, so eager to get to know you, and is literally probably going to show up at the shop the second he finds it, I already know there’s no girlfriend thanks to the wonders of the internet, and you and I both know the reason you never dated wasn't for lack of suitors; it was because you couldn't get a certain mysterious crush out of your head and wouldn't look at anyone who wasn't him! You can't still be holding onto someone that, for all I know, may as well be a figment of your imagination, considering I don't even know his name and you said you hadn't seen him in years. You've gotta move on, girl! Live a little!”

“I don’t think hooking up with a guy I barely know just because he’s cute and I’m supposed to be forgetting about someone else is anywhere near my definition of living, Alya. Or yours.”

“Well no, not mine, because I’ve been in a relationship since I was 15, because  _ I  _ had the balls to ask out my lycée crush, unlike a certain best friend of mine!”

“Oh my gosh, you will never stop, will you?”

Alya sighs dramatically. “I just think my workaholic of a best friend should actually chase after the things she wants every once in a while, instead of pining after someone and settling for someone else.” At Marinette’s infuriated huff, she smirks, dropping the act. “But for real, girl, if you and Adrien get close, and he asks you out or you find yourself developing feelings for him, please.. Don’t run from it. You deserve to be with someone who makes you happy, babe.”

Marinette smiles gratefully. “I love you, babe.”

Alya hums, smiling affably. “I know. Now what do you say we go hit up your parents for some breakfast?”

“Oh, hell yeah!”

\---

“Hey Brigitte!” Marinette calls out to the currently quiet store. “Sorry I’m late!”

“What else is new?” Brigitte calls out from the staff room just by the counter. Marinette can’t see her, but she knows she’s rolling her eyes.

“Hey, is that any way to treat your manager? Who brought you croissants  _ and  _ macarons from the best bakery in Paris on her way over?”

A head appears suddenly in the staff room doorway. “Did you say croissants?”

Marinette laughs heartily as Brigitte all but runs over, green eyes bright as she eyes the bakery bag. “You’re the best! I missed breakfast this morning so you’re totally saving my life right now.”

“Good to know! Can’t have my employees dying on me!” She winks. “Love the hair, by the way! Blue’s always suited you.”

“Aw, thanks!” She beams, fiddling with a lock of smoky blue. “I feel like no matter how many different colours I try and fall in love with, blue will always be my favourite. By the way, I’ve got the kettle on and there’s extra water in there. You interested?”

Marinette laughs. “Of course!”

Marinette’s always liked Brigitte. She’s about a year or two older than her, and has always felt somewhat like an older, cooler sister of hers since they met. With her constantly changing hair colours, uniquely awesome style that tends to revolve around bodycon, heels and leather jackets and her friendly, approachable personality, Marinette’s always kind of seen her as the kind of person she hopes to grow into. Like herself, but a version of her that’s a little more confident and sure of herself. Plus, she loves tea the same way Marinette does, which is a total bonus.

“Hey”, she starts, following her to the small kitchen area, “random question: do you think you’d ever get a tattoo?”

Brigitte cocks her head, surprised. “I don’t know, maybe. Probably only something small with a lot of meaning to me, though. Why do you ask?”

“Yeah, I’ve always felt the same way. But I don’t know, curiosity, I guess. Tattoos are cooler these days than they used to be, I think.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean! I feel like they’ve been seen as a taboo thing for so long, but they’re recently becoming a form of art in themselves, which is so cool. And yeah, when you actually look at it that way, it certainly adds to the appeal.”

At that moment, the tinkling of the shop’s doorbell pulls them away from conversation.

“I’ll get that,” Brigitte says. “You finish the tea?” Marinette nods, heading over to the teacups and pot as her friend’s now-quieter voice speaks outside.

“Welcome to Of The Valley, how can I- wait. _Adrien Agreste?_ ”

Marinette does her best not to spill the tea.

Adrien’s quiet voice floats in through the doorway. “Uh, that’s me!” He chuckles somewhat nervously. “Does Marinette Dupain-Cheng work here?”

“She does! I’ll grab her for you!” She hurries back in, looking incredulous.

“When exactly did you get chummy with  _ Adrien Agreste _ ??” She asks. Marinette laughs awkwardly, reminding herself of Adrien’s nervous laughter just moments before.

“Just yesterday, actually.” Brigitte’s eyes light up and a grin takes over her whole face.

“The second that delectable specimen leaves you are telling me everything!”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette hurries out to the front counter and catches a relieved smile from Adrien when he spots her.

“So you found me!”

He grins. “I did! This place is like heaven for me, you know. I could be here for hours, sketching all these gorgeous things.” He gazes around the shop wistfully.

“Well you're totally welcome to! On one condition.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

She grins. “You gotta show me the finished product.”

He beams in return. “Of course! As long as you're willing to follow this little customer around telling me about all the flowers I don't recognise.”

“You, my friend, have got yourself a deal!”

The flicker of light in his eyes when she uses the word 'friend’ is unmissable, and it tugs at Marinette's heart. How lonely must he be to be so delighted at simply being called someone's friend? A conviction stirs inside Marinette to change that, starting with the friends he would've made in school.

“Oh by the way! Alya and Nino have insisted they meet you again, so we've gotta set that up.” His smile grows, but there's a hint of mischief in it now that she hasn't seen before now.

“You've been talking about me?”

Oh.

Marinette grows flustered in her haste to explain herself, face heating up as she flails. It doesn't escape her notice that she’s only ever gotten this flustered around one other person before,  _ but let's not think about him right now,  _ she chastises immediately. Comparing Adrien to her lost partner can only lead to the worst kind of confusion.

“Well, I- I figured they'd want to know the guy they almost got to be friends with was back in Paris and everything! I-”

Adrien laughs, cutting her short, and she realises he’s been trying to get a rise out of her. She sighs, shaking her head at herself.

Adrien simply smiles.

“I'd love to see them again! I'd really been hoping Nino and I would become friends.”

Marinette beams. “Well you'll love him now, he's the best. Except when he and Alya amp up the PDA.” She pauses, shuddering in mock horror. “Disgusting.” Adrien laughs.

“But anyway, I'll be back in a sec, you feel free to roam, explore, sketch, whatever.” She smiles, turning back to the kitchen's doorway to find a distinctly blue head of hair trying and failing to observe from the shadows.

“You're insane, you know that?” She whispers, passing her. 

“Can you really blame me? The guy’s cute, and  _ clearly  _ seems to be into you!”

Marinette rolls her eyes for what feels like the billionth time that morning, sighing as she clutches her no longer hot tea in her hands. “Oh my gosh, not you too. Why does everyone seem to think that?”

“Um, because we have eyes?” Brigitte chuckles, sitting opposite her. “You really don’t quite know how beautiful you are, do you?”

“Uh, you’re one to talk! Accept a compliment from someone for once and maybe I’ll let you lecture me about insecurity!”

Brigitte laughs. “Okay. Touche. But if you could see the chemistry between you two.. Did you say you only met him last night?”

“Yeah, although he went to my school for a day like 6 years ago. We pretty much don’t know each other at all.”

Brigitte hums, one brow raised. “Weird.”

“What?” Marinette questions.

“I don’t know, it’s just.. If I didn’t already know you’d just met him there’s no way I’d think that. You act so.. familiar, I guess, with him. Like you’re already good friends.” At Marinette’s confused frown, Brigitte shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe, but that’s just how it looks. And I’ve literally never heard you flirt with anyone before this guy.”

Marinette splutters, almost choking on her tea. “Wha-flirting?! What makes you say any of that was flirting? I-I wasn’t!”

Brigitte just looks amused now. “Okay, if you say so! But babe, you should know: it’s not always what you say. Sometimes it’s the way you say it that makes the difference.”

Marinette glares, downing the last of her tea as she makes to leave the room. “Can you act normal for however long he’s here, please?” She asks, hovering in the doorway.

“Of course! I’ll be practically invisible!”

“With that head of hair?”

“..You make a good point. I’ll try and be subtle, alright? But don’t think I won’t be making a mental note of  _ every single time  _ he calls you ‘babe’, or says you’re cute, or makes any indication that he’s interested in you.”

The tally at the end of that day is higher than even Brigitte had predicted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I showed this to one of my best friends who hasn't seen ladybug yet but wants to but obviously doesn't know some of the french terms the show has taught me and he read lycee as lychee and was like "I'm so glad alya had the balls to ask out her lychee crush smoothie" IM DED
> 
> \--- 
> 
> also fam if you feel like these chapters are suuuuuper short (so do I), don't worry, only these first two really are. the rest are quiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite long!


	3. of celebrity crushes and impulsive decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien is an utter mess, and Marinette blurts. Multiple times.

“Plagg, do you think I’m coming on too strong?”

‘Meow.’

“I mean, I’ve only known her for like two months; if I were someone else observing me I’d probably think I was insane. Her coworkers probably  _ do  _ think I’m insane! … I probably am. It _is_  pretty ridiculous.”

'...  Meow.’

“But I can’t help it, Plagg! I don’t know why or how but I feel.. drawn to Marinette. You know?”

‘Meow.’

“Ugh, why can’t you be a magical talking cat? Normal cats are absolutely no help!”

Adrien flops onto his couch with a sigh. The past few weeks have been rough.

It's been a little over two months since Marinette literally stumbled into his life, and even he can't believe how quickly he's falling for her. He knows without a doubt that if he were anyone else watching himself follow her around like a lovesick ~~puppy~~  kitten, he'd be concerned for the poor guy he was watching. But he can't explain the pull he feels towards Marinette. He's only ever felt the way he does now with one other person (although he's been trying not to make  _ those _ comparisons), but that could always sort of be explained away by the yin/yang aspect of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s partnership. Besides, Ladybug was daring in a way he'd never seen from anyone else, and selfless beyond measure, and fulfilled every possible quota required for a superhero. It was impossible not to love someone like her, who was constantly being praised and had every right to be.

Marinette, on the other hand, has chosen a totally different life. Very few know of the kind, unassuming girl who owns a small flower shop on Rue Augereau, tucked away amongst cafes and supermarkets, likely to be passed by without a second thought. She isn't widely known, but she is deeply loved, and loves deeply in return. That's one of Adrien's favourite things about her. Beyond her wit, her talents, her beauty. She has compassion unlike anyone he's ever known, and the warmth she radiates pulls him to her like a magnet.

So one can imagine his shock and elation when he finds out she's always been a Chat Noir fan. The conversation comes up while he's visiting her at work one day (“to sketch”, he says), and she asks if he holds any resentment toward Ladybug and Chat Noir for imprisoning his father.

//

“No, of course not!” He responds instantly. “I mean, admittedly, we still don't know for sure whether or not he really was Hawkmoth or not, because he didn't ever transform in front of anyone and the Butterfly Miraculous wasn't found on him or in his house when he was arrested, though the Peacock Miraculous was. But I honestly wouldn't put it past him. And he didn’t even put up a fight, just accepted it. If we'd seen any other activity from Hawkmoth since, I might believe he was a patsy. But I've never seen my father concede to taking the blame for anything, let alone something he didn't do.”

Her expression is so full of sympathy and it kills him. “It's okay”, he reassures. “I made peace with it a long time ago. And I'm actually incredibly thankful to Ladybug and Chat Noir for catching him.” He chuckles, a fond smile just barely gracing his face. “Besides, I don't think I could ever hate Ladybug for anything.”

Marinette's eyebrow quirks up, a smirk twisting her lips up. “Oh, do I detect a crush, Agreste?”

His face heats up considerably. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, the fact that you're now redder than her suit, for one.”

He laughs. “Okay, you got me. But can you really blame me? Everyone loved her, you couldn't help it! It was practically a side effect of living in Paris! Can you honestly tell me you didn't have at least a little bit of a thing for either Ladybug or Chat Noir?”

Now her face is reddening. “Well, okay, yeah. I was a pretty big Chat Noir fan.” Her head is dipped in embarrassment, cheeks adorably flushed, and it's all Adrien can do to stop himself from shouting out the truth about his identity and his feelings for her right then and there. He goes bright red, again, and has to hurry to change the subject before she grows suspicious of his ridiculous blush. It returns all over again any time he even thinks of that conversation, though.

//

Which is where he finds himself now, to the surprise of absolutely no one. 

“God, Plagg, I’m a wreck.”

‘Meow.’ 

“I’m pretty sure that was a noise of agreement, in which case, rude.”

The fluffy black kitten merely responds by curling his tail around Adrien’s ankle, brushing against his legs as he passes. Adrien sighs.

“I don’t know what to do. It might have to be time to admit defeat and call Chloé.”

The loud meow Plagg responds with is very clearly one of disapproval.

“Oh come on, she’s not that bad! Sure, she’s pretty loud, a little brazen and opinionated.. Probably not the  _ best  _ person to take relationship advice from, but..”

He can practically feel his old kwami objecting from miles away inside the ring he’s been in for the past three years.

“Okay, Chloé’s the worst person to take relationship advice from. But it’s not like I have anyone else to tell! Nino’s a no, because 1: he’s already been texting me asking if there’s anything going on between Marinette and I and if I ever plan on making a move so we can go on double dates and I can’t give him the satisfaction; and 2: he would for sure tell Alya, and Alya would  _ absolutely  _ tell Mari, and just- no. I  _ can’t  _ have her finding out through some dumb game of Chinese Whispers. If anyone’s gonna tell her, it’ll be me. Maybe. If I ever work up the guts.” He thinks of Plagg again, and the smirk with which he’d always remind him of his past attempts to confess to Ladybug, and groans. 

“You know what? Screw it! I’m calling Chloé.” He dials his friends number before he can change his mind, and, unsurprisingly, she picks up instantly. 

“Adrikins! Where have you been? We haven't talked in forever!”

“Hey Chlo! We talked the other day though.. But uh, listen, you know that girl I mentioned?”

“Ugh, I knew it! I knew this would be about her! You’ve finally realised you’re whipped, huh? So, are you two finally together or what?”

“Not exactly.”

“What? Did she reject you?! If she dared-

“Chloé, I haven’t even told her how I feel about her yet.”

“Oh, mon dieu, you are absolutely hopeless. Most attractive guy in all of Paris can’t even ask a girl out. Honestly!”

Adrien sighs. “I just.. I don’t know what to do! I really like her, Chlo. I've only really ever liked one other person this much, and that didn't work out because I never told her but I feel like this time it's too soon but I don't want to never do it with her too and-”

“Oh my gosh, if you go on about Ladybug  _ again _ , I  swear I will hang up. Look, I can't tell you how this girl feels about you or how she’ll respond, because I  _ still haven't met her _ , hint hint, but if she's anything like the way you describe her and has eyes that see, she'll most likely either be head over heels for you or super nice about letting you down and won't let it affect your friendship. She kinda sounds like that type to me. But, considering statistics, she probably adores you. So you've got nothing to worry about! Just ask her out, make it seem like a friend thing if she seems apprehensive and then ease into a confession later!”

Adrien blinks, surprised. “Wow. Some.. actually decent advice there! I'm impressed!”

“Hey, I may not do the whole long-term relationship thing myself, but I know shit, okay? Don't underestimate the brains that lie behind this gorgeous head of hair.” He can practically see her flipping said hair now. “You better introduce me to her when you get together, by the way.”

“Of course! Yeah, um.. Yeah.”

“Adrien..?”

“Yes?”

“What are you hiding?”

“What do you mean what am I hidi-oh she-oh  _ she’s  _ calling! I gotta go, thanks for the help! We'll talk about you meeting her another time, okay?”

Between hanging up and answering Marinette's call at lightning speed, he's pretty sure he hears the word “whipped” being shouted.

_ Well, true _ .

“I'm gonna do it!” Marinette blurts the second he answers, before he's even said hello.

“Do..what?”

There's a beat of silence, and then she gasps.

“Adrien! Hi! I-I must have gotten your contact confused with Alya’s, I uh- dammit I didn't want to tell you this yet! Uhhh, okay.” She sounds nervous, almost worryingly so.

“Everything okay, Mari?”

“I'm gonna get a tattoo!”

She blurts it out the same way she'd thrown out the first statement, sure in the moment, but seeming hesitant almost immediately after.

“Yeah. Uh, yeah. That's what I.. yep.”

“Really?” He asks eagerly, ignoring her hesitance in favour of securing his place as her one and only ~~tattoo artist~~. “Can I do it?”

She laughs outright. “Are you kidding? If it wasn't from you, I wouldn't be getting one!”

He's not blushing he's not blushing he's- he's totally blushing.

“So, what do you think you'll get? The azalea, for your grandmother?”

“Uh, about that, actually. I was thinking, instead of a tattoo on my skin, I'd rather the reminder of her was present in my shop, you know? So I was wondering if you could maybe do a mural?- Or, or just a painting I could frame and hang, if a mural’s too much to ask. But I really think the walls of her own shop should hold her memory, you know?”

“That's an amazing idea! And I could totally do a mural. It'd take a looooot of planning, and I'd probably need some help with the execution, unless you want me hanging around the shop 24/7- which I totally wouldn't mind, if it weren't for the fact that I have a day job- I’m rambling.”

Marinette laughs. “It's alright, we can work out the kinks of this later. But if you could draw up any ideas you have, that'd be awesome!”

“Of course! And your tattoo?”

“Yes, my t-tattoo.. Well, I’ve been thinking about it and there was really nothing I could think of that I really wanted to commit to- well, other than- but I can’t. There was one potential candidate, but I..” She sighs. “ I was wondering if you could also sketch up some ideas for that too? Like, something you think would suit me or something that reminds you of me or something-if that's okay. If not, I-”

“Marinette, babe, I'd love to.” The elation's seeping into his voice by this point. If only she knew how much of his sketchbook was filled with reminders of her already.. But the thought of her asking for his input, for something that, dramatic as it sounds, will be a reminder to both of them of each other every time they see it? He's practically giddy at that. 

“Really? Oh, that's a weight off my chest. Thank you so much! Would you mind if I paid you a visit at work sometime over the next few days to talk about all this, plan things out and stuff?” 

“No, I'd love it if you stopped by! I-uh, I mean, yeah, sounds good. I'll uh, I'll see you then?”

“Y-yeah, totally. I'll see you!”

“Bye, Mari.” He ends the call, not even ashamed of the stupid grin on his face. He’s designing a tattoo for Marinette. He scoops little Plagg up into his arms, looking the fluffy creature in the eyes, his own full of excitement.

“I’m designing a tattoo for  _ Marinette,  _ Plagg. Marinette!”

Elation turns to dread as another realisation dawns on him.

“Dammit, wait, this is Marinette! My lazy sketches aren’t going to cut it! This needs to be perfect!”

\---

“Hey girl, how was work?”

“Alya, you're literally not gonna believe what I just got myself into.”

Marinette shuffles into the kitchen, tossing her keys onto the bench with a shake of her head. Alya raises a brow.  _ This should be good. _

“Is this the kind of story that'll make me laugh, or do I need to crack out the mint chocolate?”

“Oh no, you'll absolutely laugh! I've almost reached the point where I can laugh at it. But now that you've said the words 'mint chocolate’, well…” Marinette's eyes drift to the cupboard where her favourite comfort food has always sat on a shelf just out of her reach. (Alya had laughed when she made the childish suggestion, but Marinette asserted that if it was out of her reach and therefore her line of sight, it would remain out of her mind unless circumstances called for it.) Her gaze then finds Alya’s, and she amps up the pleading eyes, even fluttering her lashes.

“Would you be an absolute darling and grab it for me? I promise this story is at least interesting enough to warrant a reward, if not depressing enough for comfort food. You'll probably enjoy it just as much as I'll enjoy that chocolate, in fact! And, you know, that does mean you can have chocolate too. It's win-win for you, really!”

Alya laughs, rolling her eyes as she makes her way over to said treasured cupboard. Marinette certainly has a talent for persuasion. “This better be a seriously entertaining story, babe”, she says, cracking off a few squares from the block of chocolate and handing them over.

“Okay, so,” Marinette starts, words already muffled by chocolate, “first of all: I’ve decided. And don’t laugh at me and get all “I told you so”, because I know and I’m an idiot and you’re a genius and we’re all aware of that, but I’ve decided I’m going to ask Adrien ou-”

“HELL! YEAH! Frickin finally! Did you do it? Oh my gosh did you actually do it?!?!”

“Uh, not exactly.. See, my plan was to call you on my break and tell you that whole part, that I was going to do it because it was useless trying to make myself believe I didn’t have a thing for him, but, uh, well.. I’m not really used to having an A above your name in my contacts, and, well, I called  _ him _ .”

“Oh. My. Gosh. What did you say?!”

“Literally the first thing out of my mouth was “I’m gonna do it”. I didn’t say hello, I didn’t wait for a hello, which would’ve  _ really  _ helped me figure out just who I’d called, thus preventing me from blurting that out; I just said it. And he’s like “uh, hey.. What’s up?” and then I had to flounder through a hello- you’d think something as simple as  _ that  _ could be achieved without a hitch but apparently not- and then try to think of a cover story when he asked what mysterious thing I was going to do and oh my gosh Alya, I’ve decided I hate my mouth. I hate it. It betrays me on any and every available occasion with this boy.”

“Oh my gosh. Tell all.”

“Well… I blurted again… I said I’d decided to get a tattoo.”

Alya’s jaw drops, and Marinette groans as her best friend practically doubles over in laughter, in stitches at the concept of such a hilarious misstep. 

“Okay, it’s not THAT funny!”

“No, it is! It honestly is! That’s tooooo good! You’ve just committed yourself to putting something  _ permanent  _ on your skin that you’ll literally have for the  _ rest of your life _ , that you’d never even considered before you met this boy, all because you had to get out of asking him out oh my GOSH Mari you kill me!”

“Well when you put it that way…” Marinette sighs, her head falling in into her hands. “I can’t believe myself!”

“I mean, on the bright side, at least you know it’ll be a freaking gorgeous tattoo, whatever it is, because that boy is skilled as heck, man. But what  _ are  _ you gonna get?”

“Well, uh, see, the decision to even get one being totally impulsive kind of meant.. I hadn't decided? I had no clue, and then he asked me and then I had to spout something believable so, yes. I blurted again.. I started rambling and basically asked him if he wanted to design it? Which is so personal and awkward, I know-”

“-Good God Mari, if you haven't just made this boy fall in love with you he's insane.”

“Wait, what?” 

_ This girl.  _ “You do realise, don't you, how intimate it is to ask a guy you have a crush on that you've only known for a few months, to design a tattoo for you, that'll literally link the two of you to each other forever because it'll never not remind you of each other?” 

“I knooooow, I was so worried I was coming on too strong and-”

“No, babe, he's probably overjoyed right now! I know you seem to be absolutely committed to being blind to his feelings for you but I'm not going to pretend I can't tell. The boy is  _ so  _ into you. But to be honest, as stupidly hilarious as this entire situation is, I'm actually really excited for you! I think you'll totally suit the whole tattooed babe thing. So would I, to be honest.”

“You wanna get one too?” Marinette quips.

“I mean, I could, if it'd make you feel a little better about the whole situation. Ooh, maybe I'll get one on my lower back! Bet Nino'd like th-”

“Okay, I _so_  don't need to hear about Nino and your lower back in the same sentence, or any train of thought that would likely follow that. But, are you serious? You'd actually do that for me?” 

“Yeah, sure! I've always kind of wanted to get a tatt. Besides, I'll do anything to help you work up the guts to spend more time with Lover Boy”, she grins, wiggling her eyebrows. Marinette rolls her eyes affectionately, but her smile drops as she raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“I have to admit, Alya, I'm a little surprised that you're so on board with the idea of Adrien and I being together. I mean, it's great, don't get me wrong, and I know you'd be excited to see I had a genuine interest in any decent guy, but I feel like there's more to it than that… Like you know something I don't, or something.”

“Au contraire, my girl; I suspect something you probably also suspect. It's all theory, of course, but I'm pretty confident in my skills as a journalist. Pretty sure I've got this right. So…” and here, she pauses for dramatic effect, anticipating the shock on her friend's face as she drops the next bombshell, “I'm pretty much 100% certain you were Ladybug all those years ago.”

Marinette's jaw drops.

“And I'm pretty sure your long lost lycée love was Chat Noir, correct?”

Her eyes widen to a size Alya didn't even realise was possible.

“And now, I suspect that  _ you _ suspect that Adrien may  _ be  _ Chat Noir. In which case, you, my friend, may be the luckiest woman the world has ever known. Am I correct in my assumptions?” 

Marinette flounders for several moments, mouth opening and closing rapidly as she attempts to form some kind of coherent response, which entertains Alya to no end.

“To ask you how you could possibly have reached those conclusions would be an insult to your intelligence, so I won't bother, but… Holy crap, Alya. I don't even know what to say right now. Like, what? Are you psychic?”

Alya flips her hair. “No, just a fabulously talented reporter. 

Marinette laughs. “Oh, of course! But I have to ask. I can understand you figuring out that I’m Ladybug, and I can understand  _ me _ suspecting Adrien might be Chat, but I have to know how  _ you  _ got there.”

“Well, there’s the stupidly obvious fact that your old crush back in the day was Chat Noir; you’d always defend him when people said Ladybug was cooler or more important, you used to  _ literally draw cat’s eyes in your notebook  _ in class, and it was obvious this guy you liked wasn’t from Dupont, so it wasn’t hard to guess it’d be your handsome partner. As for Adrien being Chat, well, you’re the same kind of lovesick you’d always get whenever you spoke in super vague terms about this guy you liked, aaaand he has the kind of upbringing for the angsty teen who chooses to do something good with his life trope, and, I mean, they basically look  _ exactly the same _ . So, really wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. And I had a feeling  you probably had suspicions due to the fact that you’ve never been one to fall for people easily, yet two guys who looked exactly the same had managed to steal your heart, and you probably guessed that you fell for Adrien so quickly because you felt this familiarity with him despite not yet knowing him. Am I correct?”

“Damn, you’re good. Yeah, I’d come to similar conclusions myself, although apparently I wasn’t aware of how stupidly obvious my crush was. But I’m a little… I don’t know. By falling for Adrien partially because I think he might be Chat, am I just projecting my own desires onto a situation that may or may not be what I want it to be? I guess I’m worried that I’m not falling for Adrien because he’s Adrien. You know?”

_ I actually can’t believe this woman _ . “Babe, you’re killing me. I know love scares you, but have you thought about the fact that you’re creating reasons where there probably are none to justify your fear?”

Marinette opens her mouth to respond, but can’t seem to find the words.

“Look, I get it. And the fact that you want to be genuine is wonderful, it totally is. But you left out the most important detail, babe! You didn’t fall for Adrien partially because he might be this superhero you know,  _ that  _ would be superficial, and I’d understand and appreciate your hesitation. But it’s not like that. You were already in love with Chat by the time you two parted ways. I know the whole secret identity thing adds another layer of confusion to the whole situation, but put it this way: once upon a time, 3 years ago, you fell for a guy who was brave and kind and funny and endlessly selfless and probably a billion other things. Now, 3 years down the track, you’re finding yourself developing serious feelings for a guy who’s also brave (I mean, probably), and kind and funny and selfless and probably a billion other things too! And there’s nothing wrong with that. You and I both know that the possibility that he could be someone you once knew is not what has your heart pounding around him, and what causes you to want to speak to him or go and see him in those times when you’re apart. It’s those qualities, and the person you already know he is, that really matter to you. Yes, it’d be amazing if they were the same person, but correct me if I’m wrong: Adrien’s the only person you’ve ever felt like you could actually see yourself with besides Chat Noir. Right?”

“Well, yeah..”

“And, knowing you feel that way, would finding out he wasn’t Chat change anything about his kindness and charm and selflessness, which are what drew you to him?”

“Well no, of course not!”

“Then have a guess: do you think you’d still fall for Adrien if there was no possibility he could be Chat?”

Marinette ducks her head, cheeks reddening and a hint of a smile on her face.

“There’s your answer. Now stop worrying, you dork! We’ve got more important things to think about, like what kind of tattoo I’m gonna get!”

Marinette laughs. “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

“But you love me anyway!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrugs*
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


	4. four walls (the ballad of gabriel agreste)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy comment if you know what that chapter title's referencing ;)

_ Gabriel’s hand hovered over the brooch that had once been little more than a well-loved trinket of his wife's in his perception, but, he now knew, held the weight of a power he couldn't fathom.  _

_ Truth be told, he'd never actually seen a magical blue being fly out of it as he'd been told to expect, but he trusted his brother in law's word that the same sort of magic that brought a small purple butterfly-like creature out of its own brooch at his brother in law's prompting also rested in the confines of the bright peacock motif his late wife so loved. _

_ “She loved you, you know.” _

_ Gabriel turned to the source of the voice, a ghost of a rueful smile settling on his face. _

_ “Your boy, too. So did her kwami. They fought till the bitter end to keep her alive, for you two.” _

_ Gabriel sighed at Marc’s words. Despite his whole scheme that, supposedly, was guaranteed to bring back his love, he couldn't help the hopeless despair that seeped into every corner and crevice of his mind and heart whenever he thought of her death. He'd been told it was ugly, and had his doubts about it being reversible. _

_ “You don't believe we can bring her back.”  _

_ Gabriel looked up. His brother in law certainly was astute. _

_ “Worry not, Gabriel. I know it can be hard to comprehend from a mortal, human perspective, but we have a power far beyond our own comprehension in our grasp. We will bring her back.”  _

_ 'Power beyond our comprehension doesn't sound like something we should be tampering with, though’, his torturous mind protested. A part of him wished he could take Marc’s words at face value; accept his assurance for what it was for no reason other than to prevent conflict between them. But he was no fool, and there were cracks in Marc’s reasoning. And Gabriel hated that the measures necessary to bring back his wife seemed to require endangering not only his beloved city, but also a pair of teenagers who merely wanted to put a stop to what they saw as a reign of terror on Paris. Which, when he stopped to ruminate on it, Gabriel knew was exactly what it was. He'd never wanted or anticipated the fear and harm that had come to this city as a result of what had once been a harmless scheme.  _

_ His unease must have been clear, for Marc had crossed the large room to him, laying a hand on his shoulder to bring his attention back to him. _

_ “Trust me, Gabriel. This will work.” _

_ “Oh, Marc”, he sighed, closing his safe, “I sincerely hope you're right.” _

///

Three years. It had been three years to the day since his incarceration. The memory was still etched into his mind, and still stung whenever he was prompted to think of it. When it had become part of his brother in law's plan to use him as a patsy, he wasn't sure, but he had suspicions it had been his intent from the very beginning.

He'd been so close to pulling the pin on the whole operation numerous times. Every time an akuma attack put Adrien directly in the line of danger Gabriel wanted to march right up to his attic and demand that Marc ended his foolish scheme once and for all, and the last time he'd seen him had been no different. A young high school girl- Lila, or something, her name was?- had been akumatised after being caught in a lie by Ladybug herself, and had become a twisted take on the fox heroine Volpina, using illusion and deceit as her chief weapons. She didn't seem to be the most dangerous akuma Paris had ever encountered, crafty though she was, so Gabriel had paid her little mind. That was, until she chose to dangle his son off the top of the Eiffel Tower, backing Ladybug in a corner in her indecision between catching the villain and saving Paris’ most loved local celebrity. It had turned out to be a mere illusion, but regardless, that had been the final straw for Gabriel. When he'd finally confronted Marc/Hawkmoth, he'd laughed it off. “ _ It wasn't even real!”  _ He’d argued. _ “Besides, I have no say in what these silly citizens choose to do once I give them power. Maybe you should find the girl that pretended to endanger your son; I'd think you'd have more of a bone to pick with her than with your brother, who's only trying to save your wife _ .”

“ _ Don't act as though this is the first time Adrien's been endangered, Marc!”  _ Gabriel had snapped in response. _ “I won't risk my son’s life for some twisted, reckless, immoral scheme that may never bring Estelle back! I can't let this continue _ .”

“ _ What are you saying, Gabriel _ ?” Marc had asked coolly.

“ _ I’m saying _ ,” he'd snarled back, “ _ if I come back from Italy in three days and you're still here, terrorising Paris, I will personally out you as Hawkmoth myself _ .”

When he had returned from his business trip a few days later, it had seemed he'd gotten his wish. Until he'd read the fine print on the newspapers that announced Hawkmoth’s apparent reveal.

' _ An anonymous source tells us that none other than Gabriel Agreste appears to have been the mastermind behind the entire operation. Upon his return to Paris he will be immediately detained and questioned. _ ’ 

Nathalie had cast him a sympathetic, if a little strained, glance, catching sight of the headline on his tablet as he stared, dumbfounded and indignant but unable to do more than rage in his plane seat. He couldn't exactly hear much in the way of company news (or any news, really) from inside the four walls of his maximum security cell, but hoped she'd been loyal to at least the company, and stuck with it despite the negative press it would have surely received this past three years. But he'd never know in here.

His anger bubbles up to the surface at the memory that still stings, as it's done every time he's ever looked back on it, and bitterly he wonders if this is the kind of anger that could get someone akumatised.

Almost as if on cue, an all too familiar black butterfly flies in from the cell’s only window; a tiny square of light way up at the top of the cell.  _Incredible._

“Oh, come on! Really? Three years of nothing and then the  _ second  _ I dare to think about it you send one of your minions my way?” He scoffs at the thing as it approaches, but cannot stop it from settling on his glasses and permeating his field of vision.

_ So, this is what that's like. _

“Do you really think I'd ever even consider being complicit in your schemes  _ again _ ?” he asks the open air, knowing his wicked brother in law can hear him.

“I like to think I have some rather persuasive evidence on my side."  _Speak of the devil._

“Oh, really? And what might that be?”

“Welllll,” Hawkmoth drawls, infuriating Gabriel to no end, “I had a feeling you’d be interested to know that I’ve discovered the identities of the infamous Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Gabriel’s harsh bark of laughter echoes, bouncing off the concrete surrounding him. His neighbours must surely be thinking he’s finally reached the point of madness.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir were pawns, just as I was! We were all mere pieces in your game! They may have apprehended me, but you were the one who sentenced me to _this._ I have no need or desire to know who they are under their masks; I hold no ill feelings towards them.”

“Is that so? I have a feeling you’d begin to think differently if you knew the truth.”

Gabriel knows Marc’s trying every tactic he could to break him, and he’s ashamed to say it’s somewhat working. Little by little, his curiosity, frustration and anger eat away at his firm resolve not to bow to his brother in law’s schemes, and the leash he has him on with that vague statement is almost enough to have him demanding more. Almost.

“... Elaborate”, he merely commands coolly, as if the need to know isn’t half as strong as it is. But Marc can see right through him anyway. Of course he can.

“See? There it is! I knew you’d be dying to know! Well I won’t keep you in suspense any longer; I’m far too excited to see the look on your face when you find out the leather-clad little  _ boy  _ that apprehended you at that airport was none other than your precious son Adrien!”

_ No. _

_ No, it can’t be. _

“Y-you’re lying. You-he can’t possibly be- no, this is just some trick! You’re just trying to persuade me to become an akuma and follow you mindlessly yet again!”

Hawkmoth- well, his voice, anyway- merely chuckles. “Maybe”, he says. “Maybe so. But you’ll never know if  _ you  _ don’t go and find out, will you?”

Gabriel sighs. He has no idea whether or not he believes Marc, but now he has an insatiable need to know, and it takes precedence above his pride. He'd never wanted to surrender to him, but now that he's under Hawkmoth's influence he can see how people were so easily akumatised. Every negative emotion is heightened, clouding his judgement, until rational thinking is a thing of the past. He  _has_ to know the truth.

As Hawkmoth’s persuasion wears Gabriel down with every word, it’s as if the purple light clouding his vision shifts from something bright, yet distant, to something closer and much more opaque. It begins to distort and cloud his vision the same way his emotions have clouded his mind. _Is this what every akuma victim has felt?_ A sharp pang of guilt hits him at the thought, but quickly numbs into almost nonexistence as Gabriel Agreste is replaced by someone much darker, much more sinister.

“Collector. Go, find your son, and settle the score!”

\---

There hadn’t exactly been an obvious, defining moment in which Adrien realised he had feelings for Marinette.

Obviously, he’d been smitten from the day he met her, so the revelation was unlikely to shock him when it came.

But he’s realising, as he inks a remnant of her onto his skin, that somewhere in the space of the last two months (and several years, if his theory is correct), she’s created for herself a permanent, immovable little home in his heart.

He shouldn’t be giving himself a tattoo that represents her at this uncertain, early point in their.. whatever this thing they’re doing is. He has no idea how she feels about him, or even if she’s actually Ladybug. And if she’s really only a girl he met two months ago, and not also the partner he’s loved for years.. well. Having a tattoo that reminds him of her could be a little awkward.

But it’s a little too late to back out now; he’s inking the final red petal even as he worries about the repercussions of such an impulsive act.

But he’s always lived on impulse. Why would this be any different?

\---

Brigitte pushes open the door of the best bakery in Paris, smile wide as the intoxicating smell she’s leaving behind follows her out into the streets before her. The heat of the jam donuts inside the intricately patterned box she holds close to her warms her hands, and despite the fairly persistent wind Autumn has brought along she feels none of the biting cold her phone’s weather app had predicted. She feels light; alive in a strange, almost giddy way, and she’s not sure why, but she can’t complain.

So lost is she in her thoughts that she almost misses the sight of an elderly Asian man descending the steps of a bus, with an impatient teenager hot on his heels. The young boy’s disgruntled “move it, grandpa!” alerts her to what’s happening, and just as he pushes the old man down off the final step and brushes past to walk away, she rushes over and catches the man by the arm, bracing him so he doesn’t quite hit the ground.

“Are you okay, sir?” She asks immediately. 

The old man lifts his head to face her and smiles. “Perfectly alright, mademoiselle. Thanks to you. Your reflexes are remarkably quick!”

“It was nothing”, she replies, bashful. “I can’t believe that kid though! You’d think people would have a little more respect!” She cries, shocked and indignant.

The man chuckles. “It’s no bother. Many are impatient in this day and age; from their perspective, life moves far too fast. It doesn’t wait for tired old men, and neither should they, they think. But at least there are people like you,” he says, smiling once more, eyes crinkled, “people who are considerate enough to help us slow, old people.”

He has a solemn, peaceful air about him. She can't exactly place the feeling being near him has given her, but it's comforting. Almost as if he carries this reassuring wisdom. It strikes her as odd that someone could so thoroughly exude this feeling of omnipotent knowledge that a complete stranger could pick up on it instantly, but it's something in his eyes. Like he's seen anything and everything the world could have thrown at him, and now knows without doubt that whatever comes his way, he can survive.

“It’s no problem, really!” She responds, shaking herself out of her thoughts to smile at the man once again.

The man bids her farewell, taking her hands in his as he thanks her again, before turning away and swiftly leaving.  _ Strange. He was slow as a turtle before.  _

Brigitte looks down at her hands for the first time, registering the presence of something in them, to find a small wooden hexagonal box, engraved with intricate carvings. She looks up to see if the man is still nearby, but can’t see him anywhere as she scans the busy Paris streets. She blinks, shaking her head to make sure she isn’t imagining things and a strange old man hasn’t just given her what looks like a jewelery box, before disappearing with the wind within seconds.. But the attempt to clear her thoughts changes nothing; the box is still in her hands, the swirls of red staring up at her. It seems like some kind of Chinese symbol- of what, she has no clue. But it gives off this strange sense of weight; of grave importance, just like he did, and she feels as though it isn’t something she should be investigating in public. So, she pockets the strange old box in her coat and heads home, still-warm jam donuts in tow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I thought this was meant to be some lighthearted, cute thing where they fell in love and that was it ???? No Hawkmoth and no darkness, just fluff ???"
> 
> look, me too tbh. same. I never even intended for this to be more than a little adrienette romance. but alas.
> 
> hope you're enjoying this little twist of fate though!!
> 
> (side note: formatting the direct flashback at the start and then trying to figure out how to indicate that that story was still being told, but remembered in the present, without switching to present tense.. ANHJFHEUIFBWEFJIW)
> 
> ((I hope it makes sense lmao))


	5. to catch a ladybug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien speaks Marinette's language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AY YO FAM soooo I wanted to give you all a heads up bc my posting schedule (well actually I don't even have one lmaooooo) has kind of ended up being like every 3 days ??? which has literally only been possible because I had this story basically fully written before I posted any of it and I've just been #hype for responses to each chapter lmao
> 
> BUT for the next few days I won't be able to update bc tomorrow I'm celebrating my birthday (AYYY) and then I have a camp for the next few days after that and I'll be away from my laptop and wifi and good reception RIP but by like thursday or friday another chapter should be up YAY

He’s with a client when she comes in, opening the door slowly in the hope that its creaking doesn’t alert him to her presence, and she can just watch him for a second. She wonders briefly if he knows he pokes his tongue out when he concentrates, bent over right in front of the patch of skin his current masterpiece is being crafted on, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as he perfects line after line. Maybe it’s weird that she finds it adorable, but she doesn’t have the heart to care too much.

She hasn’t drawn in a long time, and only ever produced technical drawings for her clothing designs when she did, but she’s finding more and more these days that she longs for the skills and steady hand of an artist, if only to paint the artist before her. Whether it’s his creative influence or just his sheer beauty, she isn’t sure.

Okay, that’s a lie.

It’s  _ absolutely  _ a thought triggered by the twinkle in his eyes and the sunshine in his smile, and the backflips her stomach does when that smile’s directed at her. But it’s not as if she’s the only person to have had thoughts as corny as this regarding him. How many girls have gushed over posters and photos of him over the years? At least she knows the guy, and can honestly say it’s more than mere beauty and good lighting that mesmerises her whenever she looks at him. It’s cliched, but utterly undeniable.

His customer sees her first, looking up from the geode he’s drawing on her upper arm and catching Marinette’s eye. She’s not sure whether she managed to rip her gaze away from Adrien quickly enough to not be caught, but judging by the smirk on the woman’s face, her chances are pretty slim. Marinette looks away from the knowing glint in her eyes, choosing instead to focus on the tattoo Adrien’s just about finished. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her mouth at his craftsmanship-  _ really Mari, you’ve gotta be the most transparent person in the entire world right now-  _ and the excitement that bubbles up in her despite her trepidation. She’s never been one for impulsive decisions like this one, so backing herself into a corner has made her more than a little nervous, but seeing his incredible talent really reinforces the belief in her that she couldn’t possibly be in better hands. Whether it terrifies her or not, at least it’ll be beautiful.

“Alright, all done! Just gotta clean it up; and I’m assuming you’ll want a photo as usual?” Adrien’s voice cuts through Marinette’s thoughts, and she looks up to find him grinning with pride at his latest creation.  _ God, he’s absolutely too cute.  _

“But of course!” The brunette customer replies. “And it looks like your girlfriend timed her entrance well”, she adds with a smug smile that has Marinette’s cheeks burning.

“My girlfriend? I don-” When his searching eyes catch hers, he stops short, and Marinette’s pretty certain her heart stops altogether. She almost wants to check the windows to see if the warmth of spring’s setting sun hasn’t just hit him at the perfect moment, because he’s practically blinding. He glows, smile wide as his eyes light up, and for a second she finds herself thinking that if complete loss of breath is how she’s going to go, she won’t be entirely surprised, because dear God this boy’s smile’s taken all the air from her lungs.

“Marinette! I didn’t know you were coming today!” 

If her cheeks were warm before, well now they’re practically on fire. In her peripheral vision she can just make out a small group of girls on her left that had been inspecting the gallery but have now turned to watch the spectacle unashamed, wide smiles on their faces.  _ Wonderful.  _

“I hope it’s not a bad day for- well, I mean we don’t have to- uh- I brought some food? I-in case you were hungry? And I thought, well, if you have time, we could discuss..”

If he notices her nervous energy, he doesn’t comment on it; simply shoots her another dazzling smile. “Your timing is perfect! I’ve got no appointments for the rest of the day, so my only plans for the night were to close early! And is that from your parents’ bakery? Ah, you’re the best, Marinette!”

She ducks her head in the wake of his praise, all too aware of their audience, that she imagines he’s probably entirely oblivious to. “But anyway, don’t let me hold you up! I’ll just wait till you’re ready!”

He beams at her before his gaze leaves her for the first time since he first noticed her presence, and- is he blushing? It’s gotta be a trick of the light. Like that sunshine that made him ethereal as it hit him through the window earlier. Yep, that’s all it is. Just the sun.

Marinette ambles over to the gallery wall of all Adrien’s works, hoping in vain the group of girls nearby won’t talk to her about what just happened. It’s a pointless desire, of course.

“Oh my gosh, you two are totally dating, right? You’re sooo cute together! What’s it like dating  _ Adrien Agreste _ ?” One girl, a blonde, gushes.

Marinette blushes (again), and chuckles as she pretends to focus on the photos before here. “We’re not dating, no.”

“What? How the hell not?” She asks, incredulous. Marinette merely shrugs.

“I bet you want to though, right! I saw the way you were looking at him!” A brunette girl with dyed blue ends chimes in.

“But what about the way  _ he  _ was looking at  _ her _ ? Did you not see that? If someone as beautiful as Adrien ever looked at me like that I’d probably forget how to breathe!” The third girl, whose hair is a shade of purple Brigitte would envy, exclaims.

“Believe me, I did”, Marinette mutters, before she can catch herself. “I-I mean-”

“AWW!!” The three girls cry in unison. Marinette sneaks a glance back at him in the sincere hope he can’t hear them (doubtful, though), wishing the ground could swallow her up.

“Can you girls just-well, he is  _ right over there _ . And I’d rather not have to explain this conversation to him”, she pleads, cringing. 

“Ah, sorry”, the blonde replies, sheepish. “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel. It’s almost guaranteed that he’ll smile like he did just then. He freaking looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky! If that  _ doesn’t  _ mean he’s head over heels I give up entirely.”

“Shh, he’s coming over!” The purple-haired girl whispers. He rounds the corner and smiles at the group, before directing his attention to Marinette. She smiles at him in return, wondering, now that it’s been brought to her attention, how clearly her affection shows in every smile she gives him. 

“I’ve finished up over here, so..” He trails off, gesturing behind him.

“Great!” She says, probably a little too enthusiastically to be realistic. She shoots the group of girls a nervous smile as she follows him away, catching his eye as he turns back to her. He chuckles.

“It’s alright to be nervous, you know. I’ve had clients who have known they wanted tattoos for months or even years, and have then made it to the moment of truth and been terrified almost to the point of backing out! I don’t blame you for being apprehensive, not at all.” He shoots her a reassuring smile as they sit at a small seating area near the back of the shop’s front room, where he’s laid out a large sketchbook and some pencils on the coffee table.  _ Yeah. That’s what I’m nervous about. Yep, absolutely. Totally. Yep. _

“So, I’ve got a couple of sketches in here..” he starts, opening the sketchbook and flipping past beautiful watercolour renderings of flowers and plants that are so clearly from her shop, that bring a smile to her face. As he passes by them quickly, one catches her eye.

“Wait,” she says, catching the page. When she sees the picture in full, her breath catches in her throat. 

It’s a scene from her shop, a moment captured in time from behind a row of succulents and other indoor plants. Muted greens and pinks litter the foreground, various cacti, aloe plants and more framing the subject of the painting, and splotchy, blurred bouquets of orange and yellow sit in the background, on either side of the woman in the middle, framing her in flora.

The woman is her. Holding a bouquet close to her with a small smile on her face, Marinette sees herself in a way she never has before, clearly in her element, clearly at home amongst her sweet surroundings, immortalised on paper. And she’s never been narcissistic, but right here she can say she’s beautiful. In Adrien’s eyes, in his brush and his pen and his hands, she’s a vision.

She turns to him, mouth open in awe and surprise, to find him bashfully avoiding her eyes, cheeks flushed. 

“I, uh”, he starts, scratching the back of his neck, “sorry if you think it’s weird or creepy or anything, it- I was right there at the time and I noticed the picture I had in front of me and I just had to recreate it because you just fit so perfectly in your little shop and-”

“I love it, Adrien.”

His eyes snap up to hers, and he gasps softly. “Oh. S-So, you don’t think I’m a total creep?”

_ I think I’ve never felt so flattered in all my life, and I think I’m seriously considering telling you how I feel about you, and I think I want to kiss you senseless, actually. _

“I think you’re incredibly talented, and I think this is beautiful. In fact, could I take a picture of it? So I can have my own copy?”

“Of course!” he replies, passing the sketchbook over. “In fact”, he says, as she’s taking a photo, “you could.. keep that, if-if you like.” She sends it to Alya quickly, with no text other than several exclamation marks, and quickly pockets her phone, turning to him.

“Really? A-Are you sure?”

“Of course! You’re the subject, so I mean, if you want it, you’re welcome to have it”, he replies, voice slightly shaky. She can’t stop the smile that spreads over her face.

“Thank you, Adrien.” 

He takes back the sketchbook, pulling the page out ever so carefully, and hands it over to her. “N-No problem.” Then, clearing his throat, he flips the page. “Anyway, here are some ideas I had for your tattoo..” 

This page is full of small drawings, all variations on plant clusters; some annotated with crosses, “ew”s and question marks, some only sketched and some fully rendered. There are cacti of various types and sizes, surrounded by echeveria and some of her other favourite succulents, and some clusters hold other interesting things like geodes and small flowers. The common denominator between them all (other than the thinly lined and lightly coloured style that is Adrien’s trademark) are the cacti. They’re in every design, somewhere in every grouping, whether at the forefront or not. 

“So, there are a lot of cacti, as you’ve probably noticed. That was kind of my jumping off point. I was obviously going to draw on your love of flowers and plants, because that’s something I know for a fact is important to you, so I basically thought about the way I see you, and what could represent it.”

“So you think I’m.. green and prickly?” she asks, a cheeky glint in her eye.

He laughs nervously. “No, not at all! ‘Beautiful yet powerful’ are more the words I’d use. But if you didn’t want to go down that route, there are some others on this page..”

_ He called you beautiful. Holy moly. That’s a thing that happened. Oh man. _

He flips the page again to reveal more clusters, with a few notes in the top corner of specific ones he wants to include. As she reads through the list, her mind jumps to the symbolism behind them immediately.  _ Don’t even go there..  _

“This one, uh.. this one’s my favourite.” His voice and hands shake as he points to one in particular that leaves her breathless. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but she can’t put this down to coincidence or simple aesthetics.

This cluster is so loaded with meaning it makes her dizzy. White carnations, forget-me-nots, purple heathers, a white hibiscus here and there, a pair of birds of paradise, facing each other, and a stem of gladiolus. It’s a beautiful palette of soft pastels, but it’s also a declaration. All these flowers are symbolically linked to beauty, fascination, loveliness, strength and admiration.

But it’s the  _ linaria bipartita _ that stops her short. Those flowers only have one meaning: ‘ _ please notice my feelings for you’ _ .

She looks up at him, inhaling sharply, searching his face for some kind of answer or clue, but he’s silent. So’s she. She’s drawn closer to him like a moth to a flame, inching closer although almost unaware she’s doing so. But he’s drawing closer too. His gaze flicks down to her lips for a fraction of a second, and it’s like the action flips a switch in the atmosphere. The air is charged with electricity as the pair draw closer and closer to each other, each wondering if the person before them truly is the one they’ve been missing for so long. 

They’re almost nose to nose now, and she can feel his shallow breath fan across her face. She crosses the final few centimetres-

And the shop door flies open, harsh wind and a booming voice shattering the moment.

“Chat Noir! I’ve been looking for you..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY OKAY
> 
> (meanwhile lets take a sec to laugh/cry over how utterly enamoured with adrien mari is lmao)
> 
> FLOWER MEANINGS in case ya wanted to know exactly what adrien was sayin through that one drawing ayy  
> white carnation: fascination, sweetness, faithfulness, loveliness, etc.  
> bird of paradise: magnificence, faithfulness  
> gladiolus: strength of character  
> purple heather (calluna): beauty, admiration  
> hibiscus: rare and delicate beauty
> 
> maybe it might possibly be considered a lil weird that a guy would do this but look. adrien. chat noir. do not tell me this boi would not do the corniest shit imaginable in order to show his lady exactly how he feels about her he would absOLUTELY DO SOMETHING THIS CORNY SO PLS LET ME HAVE THIS


	6. enter paonne bleu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .....Schnit goes down, folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a doozy.

So as it turns out, the seemingly accidental gift isn’t as much of an accident as Brigitte is led to believe.

“Oh my GOSH, you are just gorgeous! Who does your hair?”

A tiny blue creature that vaguely resembles a peacock is currently hovering in front of her and gushing over her hair.

_ Typical Tuesday night, huh? _

“Sorry, um. What- who.. are you?”

The thing gasps.

“Oh, forgive me! Where are my manners?” He (she assumes it’s a he, based on the voice) draws out his introduction in a sweeping bow. “My name is Niiro. And you are?”

“Brigitte. Brigitte Beaumont. And uh.. I don’t really know how to put this, but-”

“You want to know what on Earth I am and how I came to live inside a brooch? And how I can talk? And whether or not you’re currently hallucinating?”

“Well, yes.”

“I am what’s known as a kwami! You remember the days when Ladybug and Chat Noir were the heroes of Paris?”

Brigitte nods.

“Well, we kwamis are the beings that grant them their powers! Ladybug had a little ladybug kwami, Chat Noir, a black cat, and now you have been granted the peacock!”

“Wait. Me? As in, you were actually meant for me? As in, I’m gonna…”

“Yes, it’s true,  _ you  _ are going to be a superhero!”

“But why was I chosen? I’m just a florist!”

“Oh, many reasons,” Niiro replies. “The man who gave you the box containing this brooch is the Guardian of all the miraculouses, and although you only met him earlier today, he has been aware of your existence for a few weeks, and deemed you worthy of possessing a miraculous himself. And, well, frankly, I’d have been offended if he didn’t match up that beautiful blue head of hair with me! We’re practically destined for each other, my little chick!”

“Blue is my favourite colour..” Brigitte concedes. “What I don’t understand is why people are being recruited now? Don’t Ladybug and Chat Noir still have their miraculouses? And I thought the threat was eradicated three years ago.”

Niiro’s expression becomes grave for the first time since Brigitte’s met him. “That is what the Guardian and Ladybug & Chat Noir were led to believe. Unfortunately, although they seemed to have caught the man responsible for Hawkmoth’s crimes, no one had ever managed to apprehend his miraculous. As a result, we’ve always been on edge in the event that he might resurface. Ladybug kept her miraculous for a few months after the whole affair, wanting to be ready for anything, but I’m told about six months passed by without incident, and so she and her kwami, Tikki, parted ways. With Chat Noir, the situation was rather different. I’m told he had a somewhat close relationship with the man outed as Hawkmoth. It took rather a toll on him, and so, in a desire to forget, he surrendered his Miraculous immediately and made a rather swift exit from the life of a hero.”

Brigitte exhaled. “Wow. That must have been awful.”

“I can imagine it was, yes.”

“So, I’m guessing the Guardian has discovered the real Hawkmoth was never caught, or someone else has found the miraculous and has started up again?”

“One of the two, yes. We don’t know exactly the situation, but Master Fu- The Guardian- can sense the presence of other Miraculous Holders due to the nature of his miraculous. His kwami, Wayzz, the turtle, can detect.. vibes, if you will, and if ever a villain in possession of a miraculous shows up in Paris, it will immediately set off Wayzz’s radar. Hence, although nothing has happened yet, we’ve reached you as soon as we possibly could to, hopefully, give you ample time to prepare, given these rather unorthodox circumstances.”

“Okay.. What’s involved in this whole preparation thing?”

“Well, I’ll teach you how to transform, what your special power is- like Ladybug’s Lucky Charm or Chat Noir’s Cataclysm- and some other abilities your suit and miraculous give you, and if we have time, we’ll begin training you!”

“Sounds.. Good, I guess! Do I get any say in what my suit looks like though?”

“Oh absolutely! Which reminds me- your hair, although fabulous, will need a change. Not a permanent one, don’t worry!” He reassures quickly at her widened eyes. “No, it’ll simply undergo a colour change every time you transform. And it’s not the fact that it’s so unique that’s the problem; it’s simply the fact that one would be able to pick it out anywhere in your civilian life too, and then-”

“Then there’s nothing to stop people from linking me to my superhero identity”, she finishes. “After all, how many people in Paris have this  _ exact  _ shade of smoky denim-blue,  _ and _ green eyes?”

“Exactly! Clearly, you’re not just a pretty face!" He grins. "But don’t worry, I won’t condemn you to some boring hair colour when you transform. You’ll still be eye-catchingly fabulous, just with.. something a little different! And, let’s see..” He continues his monologue under his breath, stubby hands on his chin as he looks her over. 

“Alright, I think I’m all set to go, so when you want to transform, simply say, “Niiro, wings out”!”

“Alright! N-”

“Wait!”

She stops, looking at him, and he cringes.  “Sorry, forgot to tell you. When you transform I’ll disappear into the brooch, so we won’t be able to communicate. When you’re a civilian I’ll be by your side as long as you’re wearing that brooch, but once you transform, you’re on your own. In a manner of speaking, anyway. When you detransform, for which you say “wings in”, I’ll come right back! Now, are you ready?”

“I think so. Niiro, wings out!”

A wave of blue washes over her, beginning at the roots of her hair, then fanning out over her face to form a mask, then falling down, from neck, to shoulders, to wrists, and down, eventually, to her toes. When her transformation ends, she runs to her full-length mirror to inspect her new look, and is thoroughly floored. She’s not exactly sure what she’d been expecting, but given the simplicity of Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s suits back in the day, well, she hadn’t been prepared for anything of this level.

Peacocks are known for their beauty and grandeur, and her kwami clearly doesn’t intend to skip out on that. Her hair, for starters, is stunning; a fraction longer and straighter than her usual wild curls, and about a billion different shades of blue and green. From root to tip it journeys through a gradient from black, to deep blue, then a brighter teal, then an aqua blue, and finishes at the ends with hints of vibrant green. Her mask is mostly black, and a basic shape, though it shares the pointed nose tip that Chat Noir’s also had. But the eyes are clearly the centerpiece. Above the eyeholes, shimmery teal flares out to form a winged liner effect, and that is trimmed and bordered with a thin line of gold. It’s the only element that differentiates her mask from any other, but it’s stunning.

Her suit, whilst seemingly simple from the front, is practical yet no less magnificent. First, a deep, dark teal shirt with a high neck and long sleeves, that forms a peplum at the waist, which is short and the front, and- woah. In the back, incredible peacock plumage emerges from the longer flared hem, graduating through the colour spectrum in the same way her hair does, from teal to emerald to jade green, and the eyes of each feather are a shimmery dark blue, trimmed with gold. Her pants and shoes are a simple, practical black leather, to balance out all the many grandiose elements of her whole ensemble. She gives herself another overview before releasing her transformation, eager to praise her kwami.

“Niiro!” She exclaims the moment he reappears. “I look amazing! That mask- and that  _ hair _ \- and that PLUMAGE?! My gosh, you’re an artist!”

Niiro laughs. “That plumage holds even more excitement for you to discover soon. But thank you! I’ve had many a chosen in my time, and all have appreciated the suits I create for them, but it’s a joy to hear such excitement and enthusiasm for my impeccable tastes!”

“Oh, if only you could meet my friend Marinette. She loves fashion just as much as I do, and when she sees my suit she will DIE!”

Niiro merely smiles cryptically.

“So, now that I know how to transform, what happens?”

“We pay a visit to Master Fu, and we train, and we wait.”

“Wait? We have no way of pre-empting the akuma attack?”

“Unfortunately, no”, Niiro cringes. “Due to the circumstances and all the uncertainty surrounding them, we know only that Hawkmoth is here, but not who, where, when or why he will strike. That is why we must be with Fu and Wayzz. We can train in his facilities, and when an akuma arrives, Wayzz will sense it. Then, the test begins.”

 

* * *

 

The man strides in, tall and imposing, but in all honesty Adrien hardly notices. He’s shocked, of course, by the knowledge that someone’s found out his oldest secret, but he’s a little more focused on how Marinette will respond to that particular piece of information.

That is, until her determined gaze in the stranger’s direction and his next words make sense in conjunction with each other. 

“And if I’m correct in assuming you’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng, then I’ve got myself a little superhero duo right in the palm of my hand! How quaint!”

Adrien can hardly breathe. Danger aside (although the lack of a certain ring on his finger in this present moment isn’t exactly comforting), it seems all his hoping and suspecting is actually correct. The girl he loved for years and the woman he’s fallen so quickly for now are one and the same!

“Who are you, and what do you want with us?” Marinette questions, her tone steely. She must be able to feel Adrien’s shocked gaze on her, because her eyes dart over to him for a split second. She cringes; whether in apology or discomfort, he’s not sure; before turning back to the man before them, eyes narrowed.

“Me? Well, you can call me The Collector! And you’ll never guess what I’ve come to collect…”

“I think I might have an idea”, she counters, voice oozing displeasure. “You’re about three years late for that though; we returned our miraculouses once Hawkmoth was defeated.”

Here, The Collector scoffs. “Defeated. I’d hardly use a word of that magnitude even if it  _ were  _ true! After all, I, an akuma, am standing before you right now, am I not? And you’re wrong about another thing, sweetie. I don’t care for your miraculouses. I only want you.”

Adrien’s heard enough. At this moment, it doesn’t matter to him that he’s seen the woman next to him easily handle guys three times her size; he knows she can handle any threat that comes her way but he will never not stand between her and danger.  He inches just a little in front of her, standing tall as he stares the villain down.

“We’re not afraid of you”, he says.

“Oh, but you were, Adrien.”

He inhales sharply as his blood runs cold. Despite the voice changing effects of the man's akumatisation, suddenly Adrien knows exactly who he’s talking to.

“Oh, you couldn’t bear how much I changed after your mother left, could you?”

“Don’t.”

“I became such a dictator! Oh, what a drag. But you let me! You submitted to my every order, even when you couldn’t stand it. I’d never expected  _ you _ to cower in the face of change.”

“Stop.”

“To be honest, knowing now that you spent your days fighting akuma it’s even more shocking that you’d let your fear of me control you so! Quite pathetic, really.”

“I said, stop.”

“And the thought that your Father now stands before you, threatening you; does that make you tremble in your boots?”

He’s been edging closer and closer with every taunt, and with every step Adrien shields Marinette further.

“I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing at here, Gabriel, but-”

“Gabriel?!” His voice cuts the air, and he comes nose to nose with his son. “Oh that’s cold, Adrien. Whatever happened to ‘yes, Father’, ‘as you wish, Father’-”

“You’re disgusting.”

Adrien whirls around to face Marinette, just as Gabriel focuses on her also. He knows she won’t back down, but he’d really been hoping she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. Sure enough, though, she’s staring Gabriel down without a hint of fear. 

He looks back at his father to gauge his reaction, and his worry increases tenfold. Marinette seems to have succeeded in two words to do what Gabriel had been trying to do to him. His cool, calculated exterior has vanished; there’s nothing but unhinged fire in his eyes now.

“Pardon?” he hisses. Adrien can feel Marinette shift where their shoulders are touching, as she straightens. Her hand finds his and she gives it a squeeze. 

“I’ve dealt with a lot of akuma. They always have their endgames, which Hawkmoth will use to line up with his own. This isn’t even close to the same thing. What kind of person goes after their  _ son _ , not to strip power from him, but actively seeking to hurt him? You disgust me, Gabriel Agreste.”

He flinches, the words seeming to have some effect. The telltale butterfly mask appears over his face, and any remorse they’d seen for a moment is gone. 

“You don’t know anything about me”, he growls. Marinette merely shrugs.

“Maybe so. I don’t know whether or not you were Hawkmoth for all those years, I don’t know what your motivation would’ve been, and I don’t know how you escaped prison. But I do know anyone who threatens the lives of their own family, akumatised or not, doesn’t deserve the title of Father.”

“Well how about I spare my precious little son and just kill  _ you _ , then?”

_ Oh hell no. _

Adrien pushes his father back with a force that surprises both of them, as Gabriel staggers backwards. “You’re not touching her!” he shouts.

“Damn right, he’s not.”

Three heads turn toward a new voice as the outside wind rips through the shop once again, and a woman in blue shoots a peacock feather dart at Gabriel’s exposed neck at lightning speed. It doesn’t knock him out, but he grows sluggish instantly, staggering as he turns to face his assailant. Adrien can’t see his expression as he finds the mysterious woman, but his strangled gasp is enough to indicate her appearance has shaken him. He crumples to the ground, sobbing as his head falls. 

_ Who is this woman? _

“What’s up with him?” The woman asks. Adrien raises a brow.

“We were hoping you knew. You’re the one who made him all.. well.. that. Who are you?”

She stands tall, grinning. “The name’s Paonne Blue! Paris’ newest superhero!”

Marinette looks skeptical. “How do we know we can trust you?”

“Well, Master Fu gave me the box this came in himself.. But if you really want to know I'm trustworthy I can tell you who I am?”

That surprises them. “Really?”

“Well, why not? I know who you two are now, and it seems keeping your identities from each other only held you back fr-never mind. Anyway, we're a team now. We can help each other outside of our suits too if there are no secrets between us! What do you say?”

“Uh… Okay, sure.”

“Sweet! Not now though. I trust you guys, but him? Not so much.”

“Don't worry. We're not his biggest fans either.”

Gabriel chooses that moment to sit up, taking off the red and black glasses that obscured his eyes. They're red rimmed and swollen and Adrien can't help feeling sorry for him. He is his father, after all.

“I'm so sorry, Adrien”, he says, turning to face him and Marinette. “Both of you. I truly am.”

_ Huh? _

The butterfly mask appears again, but he ignores it, looking away and growling at the voice that speaks to him.  “Ugh, get out of my head!!” 

He looks up again. “Can someone find a jar?”

“A jar? For what?”

“Just grab it! I need to get away from him!”

He runs to the kitchen, realisation occurring to him, and finds a jar and lid before running back out to the main room. He hands it to Marinette, who still looks confused. 

“You've been catching akuma for years. I know this isn't your yoyo, but you're bound to be better at this than any of us.”

Recognition flashes on Marinette's face, her eyes widening before she nods. .

“Whenever you're ready, Gabriel.”

He snaps the glasses in half, his costume reverting back to the stereotypical prison jumpsuit he'd been in for the past three years, and Marinette leaps to catch the akuma, expertly trapping it between the jar and its lid. Adrien turns to his father. 

“Alright, now that that's over.. You've got a  _ lot  _ of explaining to do.”

Gabriel sighs. “That's fair.  Well, I suppose I should drop the biggest bomb first. I am not, and never have been Hawkmoth. But I’ve always known his identity.”

A collective gasp resounds throughout the room.

“And Adrien, if you've ever wondered why we had the Peacock miraculous in our safe for several years… It’s because your mother was the last active Peacock.”

More shocked murmurs fill the room. Adrien immediately understands why seeing another Peacock could've been The Collector’s undoing.

“I don't know if you remember this, but she wasn't always around during the first few years of your life. I knew she was the Peacock; she was active in Tibet at the time of us meeting, and I didn't want her to give up her duties as a hero because of our relationship. But we didn't have a very candid relationship when it came to that part of her life. She let me in on aspects of it, of course, but I never met her kwami, or even knew such a thing existed, because the ins and outs of how she came to be a hero weren't essential for me to know. Eventually she gave it up, wanting to properly be a part of your life and your upbringing. Then one day, I came home from the office and she was gone. It seemed she intended to return to Tibet, because she'd left a plane ticket on my desk. I never knew whether that ticket was for her or myself, but either way, I received a call later that night.. well, Adrien, you know what that call told me.

About 6 months after her death, her brother Marc came to me, saying he knew everything. He knew how it was that Estelle was able to become the Peacock, he knew where her miraculous had gone when she disappeared, and he had one of his own.”

“The Butterfly”, Adrien whispers. Gabriel nods.

“He told me he knew of a way he could bring Estelle back.”

Adrien inhales sharply.

“He said that all we’d have to do was acquire the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses, and we would have the kind of ultimate power that could bring people back from the dead. I was skeptical even then, even when I didn’t know just _how_  he planned to get your miraculouses from you. But he told me, essentially, that he was going to do it with or without my help. And if I didn’t help.. Well, I could kiss any intention of seeing my wife goodbye. I wasn’t sure I believed he could really bring her back, but I was so lost without her.. I needed something. Something to hope for, some security, some..

Anyway, his plan turned out to be far more sinister and cruel than I’d expected, and I confronted him many times. I didn’t want innocent people being hurt for the sake of my wife. I couldn’t let him trade one life for many. But unfortunately, he was just as much her family as I was, and there was no convincing him to give up trying. Eventually I could sense that his motives had changed, and lust for power had clouded his already-poor judgement. There were a few too many attacks where you, Adrien, were caught in the crosshairs - oh, the irony - and he didn’t care. And I couldn’t have that. Before, I could be a little selfish; say I wasn't the one behind it all, say I couldn’t convince him, say a man would do anything to ensure his wife and family’s safety. But when Marc carelessly risked your life - the goal of saving Estelle far from his mind by this point - I snapped. There was an akuma attack involving a fake version of the Fox-”

“Volpina”, Marinette whispers. 

“Yes. I didn’t know it was an illusion at the time, so when she stood at the Eiffel Tower threatening to drop you, I-” he chokes. Takes a deep breath and continues.

“I’d had enough. I told him that if he didn’t end this whole scheme I would out him to all of Paris. A stupid threat, I now know. All I succeeded in doing was giving him the perfect plan to ruin me and get away unscathed. When I returned from a routine business trip, well… Well, you know what happened at the airport. I wasn’t interrogated properly, as it seemed the cold, rich lonely man with a dead wife and enough time on his hands to terrorise Paris was a good enough suspect then, and the only name I could offer them - Marc Durand - had, according to birth and death records, passed away three years prior. He left without any trace, and I took the fall.”

Adrien feels an overwhelming amount of remorse and sympathy for his father. For years, he’s done little more than the police; convicting him instantly in his heart based on the police's logic and his own pain, and for three years that anger has sat somewhere in his gut, festering. It dispels in an instant, now that he knows the truth.

“Father.. I’m so sorry.”

Gabriel turns to him, shocked, and then scoffs.

“Don't be ridiculous. You have nothing to be sorry for, Adrien. Myself, on the other hand..”

“No, Father, I do. We haven’t exactly had the most.. communicative relationship ever, but I assumed the worst and didn’t give you any chance of redemption in my mind. And I had so little of the full picture. I’m sorry I was so quick to believe the worst.”

A sad smile crosses his father’s face, as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Adrien. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I raised you the way I did.You’ve grown into a wonderful young man, but I know that’s more so in spite of my parenting than because of it. If..if you like, once Marc is convicted and my sentence ends, I can work on being a proper father, and we can see about being a family that actually talks?”

Adrien is shocked. He’s never seen timidity from his father before, and he’s  _ definitely  _ never heard words like this from him before.  _ His time in prison must have really given him a new perspective. _

“I’d like that”, he responds with a smile. His father smiles hesitantly back, and Adrien’s heart swells. He’d always thought of a real relationship with his father as little more than a pipe dream. Now, it could actually become a reality.

“I don’t mean to interrupt”, Paonne Bleu begins hesitantly, “but I think now would be a good time to get you two your miraculouses back, so Marinette can Lucky Charm this guy’s glasses back. Then, you’re.. going to have to go back to prison.” She cringes. “Sorry.”

Gabriel merely nods in response. “I understand.”

“So, we go to Master Fu and you two stay here?” Marinette suggests. “We won’t be too long, and in the unlikely event that Gabriel  _ is  _ shifty and tries something, well, you can probably effectively kick his butt. That, or give him another round of that dart. Those things are amazing!”

“Aren’t they just?” Paonne gushes. “This whole suit is so amazing, like a peplum top that becomes sick peacock plumage is cool enough in itself, but then, plot twist! All 7 of the feathers that seem to be just an element of the suit are  _ detachable darts  _ of different strengths and purposes! Like, is that not incredible?!”

Marinette’s eyes light up. “Oh, you are  _ so  _ showing me every little secret that suit holds so I can gush to my little designer heart’s content!”

Paonne grins. “Can and will do!”

“I can’t wait. But right now, I have a kwami to reunite with! Shall we go, Adrien?”

He smiles and nods, and the pair leave together, getting in his car to head to Master Fu’s small, quaint shop.

 

* * *

Marinette’s head is reeling. She suspects Adrien might be a little more dumbfounded, unless he’d had his own suspicions about her being Ladybug, but even having previously wondered if Adrien might have been the very same man she’d given her heart to years ago hasn’t prepared her for the discovery that she’s right, and everything else that’s come along with it. And that almost-kiss?? It feels like a lifetime ago given everything that's occurred since, but even so, it’s fair to say she’s devoted a decent amount of thought to  _ that _ particular part of the night.

She’s wondered before, of course, (many times, in fact) whether or not Chat Noir’s flirting back in the day had ever meant anything. It was safer for all involved, she would tell herself, if she never questioned things like that and never allowed herself to hope for more than partnership. She knows the Marinette of today would probably take the same approach; choose to play it safe for not only her own sake but the sake of those around her, but now that she knows all she does, she has to wonder if by holding back all she did was sell herself short of something she’s always desired.

She’s always wanted Chat’s love. She can’t deny that. Now that she knows both sides of him, and has honestly fallen for each side independent of the other, that desire to be with him has increased tenfold. It comes as absolutely no surprise that the man behind the mask is every bit the selfless, loyal, endlessly kind person she’d fought side by side with for years. And really, how can she not be drawn to someone so wonderful?

“So…” the very subject of all her thoughts says, bringing her back to the present as he leans against his car beside her. She half-sits next to him and looks over to find his expression quite unreadable.

“So..?”

“So, I think we should talk about some stuff. Tonight.. well, I mean, it was pretty crazy. We found out a lot of things that have the potential to change so much, and I don’t think we should just let them be without talking through them.”

“I thoroughly agree”, Marinette replies.

Adrien smiles.

“So.”

Marinette raises a brow. “So.”

“You’re Ladybug.”

“You’re Chat Noir.”

“And my dad is  _ not _ Hawkmoth!” It comes out in a joyful laugh.

Marinette smiles, remembering his hopeful expression as they finally had a chance to talk through years of miscommunication, and he was left with the promise of more.

“I’m happy for you”, she says, oh so hesitantly reaching out a hand to lay over his own on the hood of his car. His gaze shifts down to where her hand now lies, and his smile grows, tugging on her heartstrings in the way he so easily does. “I’ve only recently had some insight into how horrible things must have been for you, but I’ve always─”  _ come on, don’t back out now─  _ “I’ve always cared about you. Your happiness is my happiness, and to know you’re finally receiving the love you so deserve, it’s..”

She trails off, undone by the look on his face. In the time she’s known him she’s always considered him to be a pretty open book as far as what his expressions say about his emotions, but this right now.. His happiness and admiration is practically tangible, it’s so evident. He leans in, pulling her close for a hug and she’s struck by how familiar that feels. They haven’t hugged much as Marinette and Adrien, and they certainly haven’t hugged like this very much, but it instantly takes her back to all the moments they shared while in their suits, and the way she fell in love with him without even realising it in embraces like this.

“Marinette, I..” he pulls away, and she can see his eyes brimming with tears as he beams at her. “God, you are  _ so  _ important to me. I can’t.. It’s hard to articulate just how much you mean to me, My Lady. Thank you so much.”

Heat rushes to her cheeks at the familiar nickname, and he notices. “Um, is it alright if I call you that? I never really asked when we were younger and-”

“It’s fine”, she squeaks, face still warm but hopefully no longer beet red. She’s simultaneously hoping for and dreading the conversation in which they address, well, a lot of things. Their friendship is amazing, and she’d be blind not to acknowledge that it seems like he  _ could  _ return her feelings, especially having heard from Adrien that he had least admired and had a crush on Ladybug once, but.. it’s dangerous territory, and part of her heart is praying they’ll skip over it.

She clears her throat. “We should probably..” she trails off, gesturing to the shop. He hums, seeming to agree, but when she turns back to face him it looks as though he’s probably taken no notice of her words. He’s staring into space, lost in thought, and she has a feeling their conversation isn’t over.

“I want to apologise.”

She frowns, confused. “For what?”

“I never said goodbye. We-we grabbed him, and the police cuffed him, and then I just.. Ran.”

“Adrien, you know I f-”

“Please just let me say it.” His voice is small and timid, which is a totally new thing for her to experience.

“Okay.”

“I just.. I felt horrible for running the second I turned away, and every time I've thought about it since. But being told my dad was Hawkmoth.. It took everything I knew about my life, everything I took as fact, and shattered it. I had no idea how to process it, what to think, what to do.. So I ran, despite wanting nothing more than to cry on your shoulder. I ran away from the one person who was constant, but once I left that airport and gave back my miraculous, any hope of finding or contacting you was gone. I was never able to apologise, so now that I have the chance to do so, I had to take it.”

Marinette nods. “I understand that. But don’t worry, it was water under the bridge a long time ago. I’ll be honest, I _was_  upset, and I asked my kwami, Tikki, if she had any idea why you would’ve left so quickly without a word. She told me that she knew who you were under the mask - apparently both herself and your kwami knew about and helped choose the holders of our miraculouses, because we had to be able to balance each other out - and she told me you knew Gabriel in some way. She said it probably hurt you and changed a lot of things for you to find out that Gabriel was Hawkmoth, and there was no way I could fault you for leaving. When I.. I guessed that you might be Chat, well then, it was even more understandable.”

“Wait. You guessed?”

She ducks her head. “Yeah..”

“W-How long ago?”

“To be honest, I don’t.. Know? It’s-I didn’t exactly have an epiphany, I more just kind of put the pieces together and had suspicions for a while. Like, it made sense, given what I knew about each side of you. And I don’t know if you noticed this too or not, but I.. our whole friendship felt so easy and familiar, so quickly. I mean, on the whole I usually can open up to people and get to know them fairly easily, but with you it was.. different. Like, I’d get feelings of deja vu, as if I’d already known you. Add in the looks and, well..”

Adrien’s eyes are wide. “Wow. I mean, I had suspicions myself, that you might be Ladybug, but I sort of dismissed them because I felt like it was too good to be true. The odds of meeting my best friend in practically another life? I figured, slim to none. But here we are.” 

He reaches up a hand to scratch the back of his neck, and his sleeve falls, exposing a tattoo she hasn’t seen before. It’s minimal, like most of his others, all simple lines and no shading, but she loves it. It’s of a woman with her eyes closed, holding a single red rose. Marinette can’t help but wonder.

“Is that one new?”

His face instantly flushes.  _ Well that’s telling.  _ “Yeah, I um..” 

She looks up from the tattoo to him, and he looks nervous as hell. “Sentimental or aesthetic?”

“Pardon?”

“Your tattoos; I’ve noticed- or well, I assumed- each one was either chosen to represent something important to you, or simply because you like the look of it. That was my guess, anyway; I mean, you could have some sentimental attachment to the moon or lightning or-”

“Yeah, those ones are aesthetic choices. This one, it’s uh..”

She can feel the fear emanating from him. It’s a big thing to admit you’ve gotten a tattoo inspired by someone who’s currently only a friend. Then she remembers the flower drawings, from earlier that night.  _ Please notice my feelings for you. _

He meets her eyes, and something shifts, the same way it had earlier. It’s as if now they both know they’re on the precipice of something they’ve denied themselves for so long, and the fog of uncertainty and denial has finally lifted. Now that she’s on the cusp of it, her fear is gone. She has to make it happen.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about my tattoo”, she starts, feigning nonchalance as she traces the rose on his arm. He raises a brow, confused. She bets he’s wondering why she’d cut into a moment like this one, with what feels like casual talk. She smirks. It’s not.

“Do you remember me hinting at an idea I had, but I said I couldn’t do it?”

He nods slowly.

“Well, it was a sentimental thing. I thought about doing it so many times, but I’d always back out. It felt so painfully obvious to me, although nobody else would understand; the thought of having this constant reminder of the only man I’ve ever loved etched onto my skin forever, it-it scared me.” Once again, she lets her gaze travel up from his tattoo to his face. If he looked nervous before, it’s nothing compared to his expression now. She feels her cheeks heat up, but she presses on. “Do you want to know what it was?” she whispers.

He swallows, and nods. She wonders if he can hear her heart thumping erratically in her chest.

“It was a black cat.”

He inhales sharply, eyes searching her face frantically. He’s still so afraid, can’t dare to let himself hope, and his eyes are full of questions. She nods softly, feeling the corners of her mouth lift in a small, involuntary smile.

The kiss is nothing and everything like she imagined.

She supposes she’d expected it to be impulsive and hungry and passionate, all lips crashing into each other and hands finding whatever they can grab hold of, but it’s so not. It’s passionate, yes, and eager, but there’s nothing rushed about the way his hands come to rest on her jawline, soft as can be. Her hands are flat against his chest, one coming up to rest in the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, and she’s had very few kisses to compare this one to, but this beats both every kiss she’s ever had and anything she’s ever dreamt of. 

They break away from the kiss, foreheads touching, and the tenderness in his eyes has her insides doing backflips.

It’s the strangest conundrum, to feel both the butterflies of a fledgling romance and the certainty of a longstanding love, but Marinette knows she loves him. Despite their lost time, despite only ever knowing parts of him until now, she’s sure. She loves him.

“Ladybug Dupain-Cheng,” he whispers, making her giggle, “would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?”

She pokes his nose in the same way she used to always do when he flirted with her, but even without being able to see herself she knows there’s nothing but tenderness written all over her face.

“This bug would consider it an absolute pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> so, this actually concludes part one of this story! obviously, not everything has been resolved, and some stories have only just been started, so you can look forward to reading all about that in part two, but it felt right for me to draw things to a close here. and I hope it's a satisfying enough conclusion because...  
> this story is taking a wee hiatus.
> 
> it probably won't be for too long! but I'm one of those authors who really needs to have finished everything before I post, lest I lose enthusiasm for a story and leave my readers hanging, and when I reached the end of this portion of the story I deemed it safe to start posting it, having not yet decided whether to split up the parts into a series or have it remain all part of one story. now, I'm at the end of everything previously written, so it could take me a bit to catch up. but I sincerely hope you've all enjoyed framed in flora up till this point, and that you look forward to anything else forthcoming!!
> 
> \--- 
> 
> PAONNE BLEU LINKS AND STUFF AYYYY (bc you know I gotta research and imagine every last detail lmao)  
> [Adrien's latest tattoo!](https://www.instagram.com/p/BLCagkcjVOQ/) (picture it with a red rose and lips and slightly thinner, more fluid lines though)  
> [Brigitte's hair!](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ea/59/9e/ea599e2e557b6547db820d2409834cda.jpg)  
> [Paonne Bleu's hair!](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/01/ce/d5/01ced5791f94208cc02672b992680600.jpg)  
> [Paonne's mask inspiration!](http://ladybeep.tumblr.com/post/156238387361/a-little-somethin-somethin-for-a-lil-oc-i-created) (this is literally my photo of an eye look I did, don't you love it when art imitates life?)  
> [A reference board for all things pertaining to Brigitte's general style and who she is bc I'm Pinterest trash](https://au.pinterest.com/bethfieldew/peacock-oc-thangs/)
> 
> I hope all the images and descriptions help to get across my vision of her! I.. am not an artist. so unfortunately as a result I have no fanart or reference drawings for my beautiful character! but I hope you guys can picture her and love her as much as I do :)
> 
> once again, thank you so much for reading and enjoying framed in flora!!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi over on blueandgcld.tumblr.com if ya want!


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